Sullivan's Costa Rica

Here is Tom Sullivan's account of our Costa Rican Adventure, culled from a series of postings to the HSTA mailing list.

Part 1

Once upon a time, in a country far, far away, seven little bikers flew down to Costa Rica for some off-road motorcycle riding. Two were off-road only, four were off-on road (by-bikeual), and one was a four wheeler crossover (trans-bikeual). They traveled all the way from North America to ride the narrow, twisty, hard pack trails created by the pitter-patter of the natives little feet through the cool rain forests of Central America.

Ha! ha ha ha, Ha! ha ha ha, Ha! ha ha ha, (Boy were they surprised)

Part 2

After being spoiled by the luxury hotel we stayed at in Costa Rica the night before our departure, we were told that our chariot was waiting for us out front to take us to our guide and our off-road motorcycles. After we threw our gear into the awaiting dilapidated old, box van, we were instructed to, "CLIMB ON IN!. We can take one or two of you up front in the cab, but the rest of you will have to ride in the back with the luggage.

As we struggled to peek out of the sliding side door of the rickety, old van to get a glimpse of the city of San Jose, we noticed that the 30 gal. emergency gas can that was tied next to the cab was leaking gasoline and running down the widely spaced planks in the floor toward our gear. Something about the trip so far, was not shaping up to match our expectations.

Part 3

As we entered the compound that Larry Larrabure of MotoAdventure off-road motorcycle tours of Costa Rica, we saw five XR 400s, three 250cc Gas Gas's, and one CRE 250cc Honda. Our mouths watered as we scrambled around to pick out our mounts. We kind of figured that the CRE was Larry's so that one was off limits. I rode an XR 400 last year in Baja and was quite pleased with it's "NEVER SAY DIE" motor. Amy, our young, attractive four-wheeler transbikeual, had already spoken for one of the Gas Gas's because of the lower seat height. Tim Bailey, Amy's fiancée, chose the other Gas Gas. That left Mike Ehrett, Tripp Volz, and Vic (Yes our Vic) to ride XRs. The third Gas Gas was an extra, just in case we broke one of the others.

The XR I chose had it's clutch and front brake levers too low, and the rear brake pedal was too high. But after some quick adjustments, we were ready to head off on our week long journey. It took several minutes to get all of the XRs running because most of us were not used to their cold starting procedures, but after awhile they were all fired up and off we went.

Part 4

Larry naturally lead the group as we threaded our way through the traffic in San Jose. Larry had already told us that the bikes did not need license plates, head lights, or brake lights. But it was still weird riding with a heard of dirt bikes through a city of half a million people. Larry told us that the cars and trucks had no respect for motorcycles in Costa Rica and they would try to bully us if we allowed them to. Sure enough, if you didn't keep moving when you had the right of way, they would muscle their way between you and the rider in front of you. If you let one do it, the whole line behind him would do it too.

After about 20 minutes we were onto dirt roads and it didn't take me but about a quarter of a mile of the rough stuff before I realized that the XR I was riding had nowhere near the suspension of the XR I rode in Baja. When Larry stopped to re-group, I conveyed that to Larry and asked him how long it had been sense the fork and shock fluids had been changed. He pointed to his CRE and my XR and yelled something I did not understand. I pretended that I understood him and said: "Sure, I'll trade bikes!" He shook his head no, and handed me a Phillips screw driver as he pointed to my forks and shock. I promptly added three clicks to my fork compression dampening and four clicks to my sorely needed shock compression dampening. The under pre-loaded shock spring would have to wait for heavier tools.

Tripp showed up and stated that his XR suspension was pretty good, as I noticed the fork brace on his bike. "Why didn't I at least sit on some of the XRs before I choose one?"

Part 5

After I firmed up the suspension on my XR, I was able to focus on something other than staying alive! My XR was staying on line as now I was able to look around a little and enjoy the lush, green countryside and smell what smelled like summer in full bloom. It was as if we were transported right into summertime. The fields were a deep emerald green, the flowers and trees were blooming with brilliant pinks and yellows, and the sky was an "after a rain" blue. If it weren't for the dust created by Larry's fast pace, the scenery would have been perfect.

Most of the primitive roads we were riding on were lined with some sort of a barbed wire fences of at least one strand or more. Larry turned onto an even narrower, rougher road with a pretty steep uphill. As Larry stopped to take down a "one strand " barbed wire gate. (I'm glad he was out front) Mike showed up and said that Vic was having trouble on the last uphill. We told Larry to lead Tim and Amy on ahead and we went back to see if we could help. As we arrived Tripp was riding Vic's bike up the hill and Vic was walking behind him. When Vic finally got to the top of the hill he had a red face and was sweating profusely. Vic choose to wear his AeroStitch jacket and pants and his Shoe full face helmet with shield and his high top leather gloves. Vic swore his choice of apparel had nothing to do his overheating factor. We just looked at each other and said: Yeah, right!

Part 6

It was getting close to lunch time so Larry lead us to a quaint bed and breakfast type hotel about 50 miles east of San Jose overlooking a dormant volcano. We soon learned it was going to be tonight's lodging as well. After an authentic South American type lunch, we were entertained by the establishment's pet turkey as it strutted around and reminded us that it was boss.

Larry told us we had the option of riding a challenging trail near the hotel or just relax and enjoy the views. Vic decided not to push his luck and elected to stay behind. Larry said that this is a trail that only he and the cows use and he has never seen another human being on it but he and the victims that follow him. Ha also informed us that it was the same trail that was written about by the bike magazines recently.

As we left the compound, we did not have to ride a quarter of a mile before we turned right and ran into the only mud we had seen today. For over a mile we rode on deep, thick carpet like grass that sucked all of our horsepower up. I have never seen anything like it. It was like riding on deep sand but it looked like grass. If you let off of the throttle for an instant, your momentum would be eaten up and you would go over the bars before you knew it (and we did)(many times). Amy and Larue (Yeah, I know I forgot about Larue being on the trip in my earlier notes) Any of you that know Larue, don't tell him, and lets see if he mentions it on his own. I've got a feeling that he never reads the stories I send him. Anyway, he and Amy wisely decided to peal off and head back to the hotel through a hole in the fence because Larry said that this was the easy part of the trail ahead!

Part 7

We probably didn't ride 1000 feet after Amy and Larue pealed off through the hole in the fence until we started running into deep, black, de-composed lava trails that crisscrossed each other along the thick, green, moist grass. As the trail (s) descended deeper into the forest, the two or three choices of deep black ruts turned into one choice. What was previously one foot to eighteen inch deep ruts turned into one rut that kept getting deeper and deeper as it descended lower and lower into the forest. It got so deep that on many occasions there was not enough room for your feet. We either had to trail them behind us or hold them up over the gas tank. At some points it got so deep that the ground level was shoulder height. In addition to being extremely limited in space, there was tight turns, stumps and big rocks that you had to wheely over in order to navigate the "sardine can" like trail.

We were forced to ride in, out and through every conceivable obstacle this unrelenting trail could throw at us. We were in the deepest part of Tarzan land with no way out. We were panting, sweating, whinnying and crying in a sea of steam and heat. Tim cranked his Gas Gas so many times that he eventually broke his kick starter off. When we finally found Larry he told us there was only two ways out, the way we came in (which we wanted no part of) or straight up the trail he was pointing to over his shoulder. We asked him. How do you get to it? The trail we are on looks like it goes the other way. He informed us that it was the same trail but we had to dive down into the creek, run to the end of it, turn the bike around, and gas it as hard as we can as we turn hard to the left on the way up, or we would never make it out.

After taking turns helping to pull each other up and over every obstacle known to man for what seemed like eternity, we were rewarded at the top with the smell of half decayed dead cow to ad to our already nauseous, overheated stomachs.

Part 8

After barely surviving the "dead cow" trail we were rewarded with a hot shower, a great meal, and lots of reminiscing of exciting moments from our days ride at our quaint European like hotel. We retired to our rooms after dinner to find that the only heat in the hotel was from a wood burning stove on the main level. We were up into the mountains at around 6000 feet and the temperature was now about 39 degrees and falling. I carefully made sure that all five of the ice cold blankets on the bed were smoothly in place as I slid in slowly for a good nights sleep.

Morning came early as the moos of "live cows" around the compound let their presents be known around 4:30 a.m. We got up about an hour later to find bright rays of morning sunshine streaming through our windows. I opened mine early to take in the warm, fresh smell of the crisp, clean countryside. Everywhere I looked in my charming little room were cute little porcelain and knitted objects that reminded me that someone really cared about this place. The smell of morning coffee was filtering up the stairwell as it drew us all downstairs for breakfast.

One by one we showed up outside ready to start our next days journey. The morning sun made the volcano in front of our hotel appear even larger than I remembered it from yesterday. We jokingly asked Larry if we could ride to the top of it. He said, "sure" it was part of our route today. We all said, oh, boy! Then we looked at each other with a, "did I hear him right?" look on our faces.

Part 9

As Larry promised, he lead us to the top of the volcano on what started out as a road, and gradually turned into a waterfall, without the water. As the grade got steeper and the rocks got bigger and the holes got deeper, Larry slowly disappeared out of site. Larry rides the rocks like a frisky mountain goat. If you do everything perfectly, you will only get to ride in the same time zone with him for a few minutes. If you make any mistakes at all, you will see him an hour later at a fork in the road.

Tripp was the first to run into trouble by shifting into an imaginary gear. Mike took a bad hop and disappeared into the tall weeds. Larue, Tim and Amy were keeping busy playing bump-r-bikes with each other. And Vic was wisely waiting for us at the bottom. I trudged on alone for what seemed like hours as I constantly kept finding out how heavy a horizontal XR was. The only thing that kept me continuing on was the time I had invested and one of the things left over from our caveman days, "masculine stupidity". After thinking that I had reached the top ten or fifteen times only to find another hairpin turn awaiting with more waterfall like rocks, I finally saw Larry waiting at the summit.

The altitude was about 12,000 feet, according to Larry, as I gazed down on the clouds below. The rim of the volcano was about a quarter of a mile wide and it averaged between five hundred and a thousand feet deep. It looked like a massive amount of earth had been launched into the air and then landed back flat into the center of the volcano during it's final eruption. I kept wondering how fast I could ride down this mountain if this old volcano suddenly came back to life.

Mike and Tripp showed up next, but after waiting fifteen or twenty minutes more, we concluded that we had probably seen all of our crew. We mounted back up and headed back as we suddenly ran across Tim, riding all alone. He said Amy and Larue had had enough and were on their way back down. Tim said he was determined to see the top as we left him on our decent. The ride back down used a lot less gas, as you would probably have suspected.

Part 10

After surviving the boulder infested climb to the top of the volcano, we headed back to San Jose for the evening before heading west to the coast tomorrow. This time we rode straight to the hotel and parked our bikes right in front of the hotel casino for the evening. After cleaning up for dinner, we once again enjoyed the free drinks at the hotel bar from 5:00 to 6:00. Larry told us that the Costa Rica bars were full of the friendliest girls on the planet, so we had to go see for our selves. He was right! They all gathered around us and smiled and acted as if they understood us. Now if we could just get the girls back home to do the same!

The next morning (no I'm not telling anymore about last night) we once again played in the traffic on our way out of town. This time we only rode about 5 miles before Larry turned left and lead us up and down hill and dale on a narrow dirt road. The downhill side was like a bobsled run in the Olympics. It had humongously banked hairpin turns all the way down. We all agreed that we would love to see Jeremy McGrath ride that stretch of road from the comfort of a helicopter. It was wide enough cars, but if the cars don't keep their speed up in the corners, they would be on their tops because of the Daytona like banking.

Our next section was an uphill and it required speed, balance, and navigational skills to keep from falling into 7 foot deep ravines on each side of a narrow, twisty walking path. Anyone who knows Larue will tell you that he possesses none of these essential skills. It didn't take him long to became sacrificial food for the ravine gods as we watched him disappear out of site.

Part 11

Today was flat tire day. Tripp, Larue, and Larry all had flats before lunch. Larry even had another one after lunch. Thank God we had "Monkey Face" with us, our support driver. We've never seen anyone that looked more like a Chimpanzee. He looked like a Costa Rican version of the actor that played the professor in the movie "Back to the Future". Tripp and I cringed every we saw him loosen and tighten nuts and bolts with only channel locks.

After our lunch/flat repair stop, Larry discovered that he was still loosing air pressure in his back tire and told us he was going to try to intercept Monkey Face before he got too far away. Larry told me to wait for everyone to catch up and tell them to stay on this road and we would run into him up ahead.

Mike and I started hot-footing it by playing side by side racing games until we approached a small village of four or five houses. As we slowed and were passing through the village, a chicken ran out into the road and it couldn't make up it's mind which way it wanted to run. The chicken lost the "chicken" game. I felt a bump as I looked behind me to see the chicken flopping around in the middle of the road. Guilt got the best of me and I turned around and rode back to the chicken. Before I could get there, a teenage boy had picked up the chicken by it's legs and was heading to the frying pan. I pulled out 3000 Costa Rican "what-you-mu-call-it-play-money" (about $ 2) and offered it in reconciliation for the loss of the chicken. All five of the people sitting on the porch claimed ownership of the chicken until a man walked up, then they all pointed towards him. I gave him the "funny money" as I flopped my elbows and gave the slit throat signal. He just took the money and shrugged his shoulders and just walked off. By this time most all of our group had showed up and we all agreed that if we ever come through this way again, the road would probably be full of chickens.

Part 12

We eventually caught up with Larry after he ran down our chase driver to repair the slow leak in his rear tire. Larry had his bike up on a lift and Monk was doing surgery on his rear tire. We took the opportunity to suck down some suds at the roadside cantina they were parked in front of. The popular brew for the area was "Imperial" beer. I walked up to the counter and said, "May I have an Imperial? The young man behind the counter just looked at me with a plank expression on his face. I remembered reading a fraise on a Corona bottle that said: "La cervasa es mal" I think it means, "The beer is good". So I said, "Do you have cervasa?". He said, "See!". So I said, "Cervasa Imperial." He promptly pulled one out.

After 20 or 30 minutes we were on our way again. We flat tracked a really fun road for about 10 miles until we got to an intersection and a paved road. Larry told me to that he was going on up ahead and he motioned me to take the road to the right at a fork in the road up ahead. Something must have happened to Tripp and Mike because Larue, Tim, and Amy showed up first. Larue wanted to go on ahead and asked for directions. I motioned to him the same as Larry did to me and he took off and Tim and Amy followed. Something told me that we should not get separated as they rode away. Mike and Tripp eventually showed up with some barbed wire tale. I didn't see any blood or shredded jerseys so I figured they were probably alright and we headed on.

We caught up to Larry after a couple of miles but there was no Larue, Tim, or Amy to be seen. Larry said they probably turned on a road that intersected our road at 90 degrees instead of taking the road that forked to the right that we took. He said that he and Mike did not have enough gas in their "two stroke" bikes to go back and find them, so he asked me and Tripp to go back and find them. He said we would probably find them stopped at a main highway where the road ended. He said when we get to them, just turn left and ride the highway on in to our hotel at Jaco Beach.

Part 13

Tripp and I took off and headed back to look for Larue, Tim, and Amy and left Larry and Mike to go on ahead because they were short on gas. Tripp and I played the side by side game on this road too. Any of you off-roaders out there that want to sharpen your skills, try the "side by side" game. The rules are simple. There are no speed requirements. You can run as fast or as slow as you like. The only rule is that you have to stay right beside the person beside you. Not in front or behind. When you get to an obstacle, you have to ride over or into whatever is on your side. What it will teach you is that the motorcycle will virtually ride over anything! You will learn that areas of the trail that you would not normally head towards and avoid intentionally, are not impossible to navigate. What it will train you for is not to panic when you accidentally drift into an "Oh my God" situation when you are riding by yourself. Plus it's a hell of a lot of fun!

Part 14

Tripp and I continued to race side by side on this road on our way back to look for Larue, Tim, and Amy. This was a really fun road and was perfect for side by side fun. It was smooth and curvy and had lots of elevation changes. It was separated by a grass strip in the center and the surface was perfect for sliding sideways. Tripp was locked to my side. Every corner I entered, he was right there. Inside, outside it didn't matter. Tripp told me he had some three-wheeler experience when he was a kid, but for a guy that has only been into dirtbikes for a little over a year, Tripp has really come a long way with his "dirtbike" riding skills.

We turned onto the road that we thought Larue lead his victims, Tim and Amy on. It was wider than the road we had been on and looked like it carried more traffic. It was a hard red clay and sand mixture and averaged about forty feet wide with no grass separating the lanes. It was one of those roads that you had to break the back end loose in order to get the bike to turn. Otherwise, you would just keep going straight because the front end would push in the turns.

I noticed that Tripp was not by my side on this road and was considerably off the pace. As Tripp was finding out, continuing a fast pace on a dirtbike is constantly adjusting to changing surfaces underneath you. Unless you are one of those rare Nicky Haden types, it usually takes years to acquire the skills necessary to be comfortable on the endless varieties of off-road surfaces on this old world.

Part 15

I knew that Tripp was off of the pace on this section, but now I didn't see him at all in my parrif.....perif.......pirifria.....(side) vision. I slowed and eventually stopped, but, no Tripp. I waited at few seconds, then turned around and headed back. I rode back about a quarter of a mile and found him picking up his bike in the center of the road. There was a guy with a bicycle standing next to him with wide eyes. I asked, "What happened?" He said, "Ah, I just lost the front end." I then asked, "Are you alright?" He said, " Yeah, I banged my head and shoulder a little, but that's about it." His bark busters on his handlebars were bent down and there was scuff marks on his shoulder and the side of his helmet, but he seemed to be OK.

We rode on for three or four more miles at a very conservative pace until we reached the highway at the end of this dirt road and found our three humble looking companions waiting for directions. We explained to them that they made a wrong turn and Larry instructed me and Tripp how to lead them on to the hotel. As I was telling them that Larry said we could ride on to the hotel on the main highway, Tripp interrupted and asked, "Did I get knocked out?" I responded, "No, I don't think so." "You didn't look like you did." Why, do you think you did? He replied, "I don't know." "I just don't remember some parts of the last road." I continued on to explain to Larue, Tim and Amy how to get to the hotel from here and Tripp interrupted again with, "Did I get knocked out?" We all looked at Tripp and said, "Yeah, Tripp, we think you may have gotten knocked out".

Part 16

We all concluded that Tripp had, for sure, been knocked out as we debated whether to let him ride on or not. None of our bikes had passenger begs on them and we would have to leave an unattended motorcycle on the side of the road, so we decided to let him ride on.

The highway had moderate traffic and fortunately tuned into a four lane as we got closer to the coast. The coastline was spectacular! I don't know about the other riders, but I for one was happy to be riding on pavement and enjoying beautiful scenery for a change. Tripp was doing fine we were cruising about 45 to 50 mph. We had put some distance on our companions for some reason, so I decided to pull over and let them catch up. I asked Tripp how he was doing and he said, "Did I get knocked out?" I said, "Yes Tripp, you got knocked out" He said, "How long was I out?" I said, "I don't know, you were awake when I found you". Then he said, "Are we in Nicaragua?" I said, "No, Tripp, we are in Costa Rica" He said, "How did I get here?" I said, "You rode the bike here" He said, "That's scary." About that time Larue, Tim, and Amy pulled up behind us and I just waved them on.

We rode on for a couple of more miles (as I kept a close eye on Tripp) until we caught up with our three companions waiting at the turnoff to the hotel. We pulled to re-group and Tripp pulled up along side of me and asked, "Did I get knocked out?" "How long was I out?" "Was I on dirt or pavement?" "Did I ride here?" "That's scary." I answered all of his questions again, (that I knew the answers to), and suggested that we go on to the hotel. We pulled into the hotel parking lot and Larry and Mike were waiting for us at the covered front entry. Tripp pulled up beside us and you guessed it, he asked, ".............. Did I get knocked out?" "How long was I out?" "Was I on dirt or pavement?" "Did I ride the bike here?" "That's scary."

Part 17

We told Larry, our tour leader, what had happened to Tripp soon after we parked our bikes at the hotel at Jaco Beach. It just so happened, Mike had also taken a pretty bad tumble and injured his knee on his ride in with Larry. Mike told us that he was on a steep downhill, and the next thing he knew, he was under the motorcycle with a wrenched knee. I told Mike earlier not to try to hang with Larry on downhills, but he had to find out for himself. Larry went over to see about Tripp and he said: "Did you get knocked out?" Tripp just looked at him and said, "I don't know. Did I?" We all just shook our heads.

Tripp kept it up until way into the night. He even drove Mike, his roommate, crazy by asking him ten or twelve times if he got knocked out while they were cleaning up for dinner and Mike wasn't even there when it happened. We got so used to expecting it every two minutes or so, that we started beating him to it. Tripp, "Did you get knocked out? ".......... I don't know, did I?" He even told us several times (after we finally informed him that he got knocked out) that he had been knocked out two times before, when he was younger. Once, when he fell out of a tree house, and the second time while he was playing baseball. On one occasion, after asking the dreaded question again, he stated, "I was knocked out once when I was a kid when I fell out of a tree house." We said, "What about the time when you were playing baseball?" He said, "How did you know about that?"

Tripp finally came around after dinner. We all agreed. If we had just videoed the whole evening, we could have sold him the tape for around a thousand bucks.

Amy wanted me to tell you that her and Tim's room was full of bugs, and Tim hates bugs. Their room was named "Lucky" on the front door (didn't happen).

Part 18 (The conclusion)

Tripp seemed fine the next morning as we enjoyed our last "on the road" breakfast at the Jaco Beach resort. He made the mistake of calling home last night, and reported his concussion to his wife Dee Dee. Now he won't be able to go with us on anymore of these trips.

As we suited up and rode out of the resort, we didn't have to ride a half a mile before we turned left off the highway and headed up a long hill. It occurred to me that this must be the same hill that claimed Mike as a victim on his way down the hill yesterday. It was mean and nasty, plus it had rained last night and it was as slick as gorilla snot. We all heard that you don't want to come to Costa Rica during the rainy season, now we know why. What had been hard packed concrete like, light brown trails (with the exception of the black dirt volcano trails) now had turned into slick, red muck. Thank god it didn't rain much last night, or we would probably still be there!

As we navigated the slick one and two track trails that meandered up the endless hill, it got steeper and steeper. This was the kind of conditions that you had two choices: Keep moving at a moderate pace and eventually loose your momentum and get stuck on the hill, or stab a lower gear, grab a handful of throttle, get on the pegs, and steer like hell. Larry was slinging mud all over me as he fought desperately to gain traction and keep climbing. After another half a mile or so, and a few get-offs, we finally made it to the summit. The way down was really fun. The slick surface allowed for bobsled like speed as we anxiously awaited for the roads to slant in the direction we wanted to go.

Amy had a high speed over the bars incident in a slick mulch area, without any pain associated with it. Thank you plastic gods! Shortly after that, Tim "yelled" at her to move over (through the helmet cam system they were wearing) and she crashed again. Tim got "cut off" soon after that.

Vic joined us at the end of the day as we got closer to the conclusion of our last days ride. Larry convinced him that the remaining section was well within his abilities and he would enjoy the views from the ridge we would be riding in on. Vic confirmed a suspicion of mine, as he consistently finished mid-pack on the rolling fast paced ridge, that if he had overcome his anxieties, and stayed with us the whole time, he would have graduated from dirt-bike "101" with honors.

Thanks for allowing me to share our story with all of you!

Tom Sullivan